someone left the door open
it's winter
and all the heat is going out
dissipating into the dark night air
can't you feel it
don't you understand
without the warmth
we will perish
it's winter
and the night is long
and so cold



so very



very



cold.






.

.

.

what IS a dream
and what is NOT
dreams seem real
reality so strange
this one struggles with the end
that one struggles with the beginning
a day
a week
a lifetime
one moment at a time
one after another
until the never no more
when consciousness becomes
like a dream
floating
like forever
THIS time we wake
the next perhaps NOT
sinking
into the deep blue tomorrow
into the deep blue today
raise your eyes
count the stars
one after another
until the never no more
like that day
when you and I
on a vast green lawn
beyond the fence
beyond the moment
when
we discovered
a dream
called love

Penelope and the Mixer Cat

She stopped to pick up the dollar bill on the street corner. This was a good sign and Penelope believed in signs. The light changed, she walked forward, into the oncoming stream of fish so intent on swimming up stream to spawn and die. One day Penelope would stop this charade, one day she would wake up a star and this moment will never have happened. But the traffic moved on and the taxis never stopped so she just kept on walking, past the curb, onto 34th and half a block down to the small door that held the future and past and every day for the last two and a half months. She hated working at the massage parlor. She hated herself. When her mother called, she told of how the advertising agency was doing so well, how the client dinners were so elegant and expensive, how her latest ad had made them all ready to create a campaign and start shooting in the south of Spain. Mother didn't know. So Penelope opened the door, descended the five steps to the beginning of another night. It was dark and darkness kept the secrets locked deep inside her heart. Penelope sighed. Tonight was starting out so long, so very, very long.

Pardon us
the momentary software glitch
has been fixed
your life will return to normal
excitement will be gone
satisfaction will be deleted
all things will be reset
to
the way
it was

before.

Language is a Virus - Laurie Anderson

Paradise
Is exactly like
Where you are right now
Only much much
better.

I saw this guy on the train
And he seemed to gave gotten stuck
In one of those abstract trances.
And he was going: "OOOuh...oooouh...oouh..."

And Fred said:
"I think he's in some kind of pain.
I think it's a pain cry."
And I said: "Pain cry?
Then language is a virus."

Language!  It's a virus!
Language!  It's a virus!

Well I was talking to a friend
And I was saying:
I wanted you.
And I was looking for you.
But I couldn't find you.  I couldn't find you.
And he said: Hey!
Are you talking to me?
Or are you just practicing
For one of those performances of yours?
Huh?

Language!  It's a virus!
Language!  It's a virus!

He said: I had to write that letter to your mother.
And I had to tell the judge that it was you.         (It's bag its a charm.)
And I had to sell the car and go to Florida.
Because that's just my way of saying              
That I love you.  And I                           
Had to call you at the crack of dawn                 (Why?)
And list the times that I've been wrong.
Cause that's just my way of saying
That I'm sorry.                                      (It's a job.)

Language!  It's a virus!
Language!  It's a virus!

Paradise
Is exactly like
Where you are right now
Only much much                                    
better.                                              (It's a shipwreck.)(It's a job.)

You know?  I don't believe there's such
a thing as TV.  I mean -
They just keep showing you
the same pictures over and over.
And when they talk they just make sounds
That more or less sync up
with their lips.
That's what I think!

Language!  It's a virus!
Language!  It's a virus!
Language!  It's a virus!

Well I dreamed there was an island
That rose up from the sea.
And everybody on the island
Was somebody from TV.
And there was a beautiful view
But nobody could see.
Cause everybody on the island
Was saying: Look at me! Look at me!
         Look at me! Look at me!

Because they all lived on an island
That rose up from the sea.
And everybody on the island
Was somebody from TV.
And there was a beautiful view
But nobody could see.
Cause everybody on the island
Was saying: Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!
         Look at me! Look at me! Why?

Paradise is exactly like
Where you are right now
Only much much better.

.

Ging, the UNRWA chief, said Israeli tank fire killed the two brothers, aged 5 and 7, in a U.N. school in the northern town of Beit Lahiya where they had sought sanctuary. Their mother, who was among 14 wounded, had her legs blown off.

About 45,000 Gazans fleeing battle zones are sheltering in U.N.-run schools in the enclave.

On the home front, as inauguration day approaches, fashion experts guess what future First Lady Michelle Obama will wear on the day. 

.

the man who made golf balls fly

One day Raymond awoke to find his family missing.


It was terrifying, and although the police were very reassuring and the neighbors consoling, it disturbed him far deeper than he let on. His grandmother came from Pittsburgh to stay with him and send him off to school and make him tea. Worst of all, she reminded him of his mother, and that was terrible as he missed his mother immensely.

Their family lived – oh, sorry – had lived in a very, very large old mansion built upon a stony crag near the edge of town out past where the trolleys would run. Raymond’s father had bought it with the lottery money he had won, all 43 million dollars, after taxes and legal fees and paying off the judges. Not that Raymond’s father had cheated, mind you, it was just that the judges made it quite clear that they expected remuneration for having pulled the big steel handle that had dropped the series of polished red balls on the winding wooden shoot that had deposited them in that miraculous order: 879026 which were the very same numbers on Raymond’s father’s lotto. Raymond’s father gladly paid them their extort – err, reward.

One very sad day, after a couple of police detectives had visited with absolutely no good news for either Raymond, or his grandmother (who by now was itching to get back to the warm little bungalow her dutiful son had bought her with a portion of the proceeds from the lotto win) his Grandmother announced she would be leaving at the end of the week.. She found Raymond tedious.

Just as Raymond found living in the huge old mansion tedious, but also very frightening. For good reason.


What the builders of the mansion didn’t know, and never would have guessed, was that before Raymond’s mansion had ever been conceived, was another –which had burnt down in a mysterious manner some 230 years prior. And underneath this oldest structure was a catacomb of subterranean passages and rooms, which themselves were built upon an even deeper layer of natural chambers left over from a previous age when giant volumes of water had carved out intricate passages and rotundas on its deep, dark way to the ocean. For another very good reason, the builders had failed to discover a passageway that lead to this complex of rooms because someone had artfully disguised the entrance to look like a foundation stone.


This would explain the uninvited guests.


Raymond found them standing at the foot of his very large bed late one night when the moon had penetrated the dense curtains of his bedroom windows and cast a dim glow about the room.

He sat up with a start, screaming. Of course, if you’ve ever been small, and ever been terribly afraid, you understand that Raymond wasn’t making a sound at all. The poor little boy’s mouth was open, but the rest was all inside his head.


“Raymond,” said the short, round man in the dark brown derby. “Listen very carefully. Your family is very much alive, although likely not for long, at least, not until you take this note your father has so willingly written to his attorney, Mr. Standbush.”

Finally a word came from Raymond’s mouth.


“Where…?” It was all he could utter.


“Oh very well hidden from all of the policemen and bloodhounds and would-be heroes. You’re not a hero, are you Raymond? Because any sort of heroics would be severely limit your family’s ability to remain alive.”


“Please don’t hurt them!” Raymond cried.


The man in the derby and the other two small figures leaned closer.


“Oh, rest assured, Raymond. We would never harm your family.”


Raymond felt a rush of relief.


“But he would…”


Out of the shadows emerged a brute of a man some seven feet tall, wearing a pair of dark purple pants and a long dark coat. In is hand was a very long, silvery needle of immense size.

Brown derby took the needle from the brute’s hands, and continued.


“Raymond, do you understand why blood clots?”


He held the needle into the light.


“Because if it didn’t, you could bleed to death at the slightest prick. I’m sorry to say that your dear father and mother and annoyingly spoiled sister have all ingested a very powerful anti-clotting agent. I would hate to see any of them prick themselves, wouldn’t you?

- - to be continued - -

yellow dot




.
not that one













.
nope, not this one










.
no






//
those aren't even dots







.
sorry









.
that's it
congratulations










'

-

every tiny atom was straining at its harness
-
it was madness that moved inside his core
-
this could not be a meltdown
-
the reactor was showing normal
-
all indications were positive
-
other than that little twitch at the corner of his mouth
-
and the distant look in his eye
-
but only briefly

.

the ending of landscape was not like the edge of the planet


it was like


one note in a song hanging in the moment
and then fading


They looked at the fireball above their heads
luminescent and bright


one more step
and they all fall off

.

take it back
the little boy said to her

take it back

you really didn't mean it
you really didn't, did you

she just smiled

radiant golden hair blinding him so brightly

a hop
a skip

and then she was gone

along

with his heart
.


duration is clearly not your strength

the editor noted on the draft

you might try typing with one hand
tied behind your back

with no lights on

in a cold room

wearing only those silly shoes

your mother made you wear
to your father's funeral

way back

way back when

you
were young
.

The Fragile Floor and Sixteen Other Mildly Amusing Stories

They say, and that would be the manufacturers, that snap laminate is a snap, which it is, sort of, except of course your knees will hurt like hell, and then there's that little issue of how the floor will look like crap in no time flat due to it's inherent inability to withstand even the slightest bit of long term exposure to - say a drip of water. Watch that floor bubble up and look tacky.